


Yellow

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azazel - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Demon deal, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ruby/Sam Winchester, Season 2, Season 3, season 4, season 5, your relationship through the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: Inspired by the song Yellow by Coldplay. This fic tells the story of yours and Sam's relationship through seasons 2-5, all through yellow-colored lenses.





	

Yellow was the color of the warm light surrounding Sam while he smiled at you, dimples prominent, eyes dancing over your face, and his boyish hair with curls hanging over his forehead. It was the color of his laugh and the innocence that saturated it.

Yellow was the color of the book cover of your favorite novel and the aged pages inside. All made of worn corners and wrinkles on your favorite parts. He had read it and it became his favorite, too. Yellow was a color you shared.

It was the color of the playful moments and the joy contained within the sweeter ones. It was the hue of the hope that tinted your time together, that maybe it would all work out. Yellow meant a possible forever and it was the naive belief that forever was possible.

Yellow was also the color of his deepest fear, the embodiment of stolen autonomy and hidden evil. Eyes that pierced through his very soul and broke him down with fear. It was a color that spawned hatred, that made you quake down to your very bones. A color that had ruined his life. A color that began to take him away from you.

Months later, yellow was the sick hue that washed over your face and the color of the vomit that came from your stomach when you saw him lying on the dirty mattress, lifeless and cold. It was the dingy chair you sat on for three days while Dean wrestled with his demons. It was the bucket of chicken Bobby tried forcing you both to eat.

Then there were two yellow’s the day Dean made his deal. One was bright and shining. A reunion and an elation. It was the return of the light to your life, the most important love you had ever experienced. The other was white hot and searing. A yellow that threw verbal daggers and sobbed hot tears while Sam wasn’t looking. It was a slap across Dean’s face and the color of the bruising it left on his cheek.

Yellow was the color of victory the day Azazel died. It was intense and pure. A moment of finality and completion. It was the color of the diner menu where you celebrated later that night and the color of walls within the room where you gave Sam his victory kiss once you were alone. It was a victory that didn’t last long enough.

There was no yellow the day Dean died. There was red. Lots of it. That was the only color you and Sam saw for awhile.

Later, yellow was the color your jealousy and the ever-present sick feeling you had when Sam left to be on his own. Which meant he was working with Ruby. It was color of the bottle label of the liquor you drank to cope and the color of the shirt he had forgotten in your bag.

Yellow was never quite completely happy again. It came close to it when Dean, alive again, found you and there was a moment of sunshine yellow that proved to be fleeting. Because yellow was then jealous when you and Dean found Sam with another girl and it was hot anger when Sam tried to apologize.

As time went on, it became the color of the book pages in Bobby’s house that told the story of the end of the world with their musty, decaying smell. Eventually it was the rekindled flame cause by spending hours together with Sam in research. It soon became forgiveness and understanding. It was the undercurrent of hurt that remained, but the softness of healing. It was a second first kiss.

Yellow was then the abrasive shock of addiction, the neon of Sam’s screaming blaring in your ears while he was locked away, and the fear of yours and Dean’s when he escaped and the rush of finding him. It was the heat of the blazing light inside the convent and the guilt in Sam’s eyes when he realized what he’d done.

Yellow was the color of your touch, pale and soft, your attempted reassurance, your unwavering love. It was the delicate approach which you took with Sam, the slips of hope you tried to give him. It was the soft blanket you lied on while looking at the inky black sky, staring up at the stars with him while both of you contemplated your places in the universe and whether there was room for the both of you, together.

Yellow was the color of the sparks that flew when Sam proposed saying yes to Lucifer. It was the dizzying shapes that floated across your eyes as the floor beneath you tilted. It was the color of the sun blazing through the windows of Bobby’s home while there was only darkness inside your soul.

You struggled to see anything at all when everyone realized Sam would have to say yes.

Yellow was the color of the sunset at Stull Cemetery and the color of the oil with which you made the angel bombs. It was the dead grass and flowers around the tombstones, the small hope of an avoided apocalypse, and the memory of Sam’s lips on yours while you stared down an intruder in his body. It was the flames while Michael burned, the outer edges of the bruises on Dean’s bloodied face, the shock of losing Castiel and Bobby. 

Yellow was the last flicker of light before you lost all hope. It was one of the beloved details decorating Sam’s irises, which you saw as you knelt beside a bloodied Dean, pleading with Sam to take control. It was the shift in Sam when he did and the haziness surrounding the quickly shifting scene before you, the “it’s ok, Dean, I’ve got him” and the “Thank you” directed towards you before he turned away. Then it was the glint of the rings as they once again laid in the grass alone, over the spot where Sam had jumped.

After that, yellow was only the color of memories. The book you couldn’t pick up anymore. The hope that was in vain. The blanket that you threw away. It was the color of the flowers that you placed atop the empty grave, a symbol of the life and light that had been Sam Winchester. It was the flickering ember deep inside you soul, the absurd idea that he could come back to you. It was the color of the sun as you walked away from his grave for the last time. It was the color that tinted all your experiences with him, the color that matched the brightest stars. They reminded you of Sam wherever you went because he, too, had been a light in the midst of absolute darkness. And you would never forget that.

Yellow was his light that you have carried within you ever since, the reason to go on, and the life you led in his remembrance.


End file.
